


A Gaze is Company

by NotSyrin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Gen, Romance at some point yEAH, Slow burn? Slow burn.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSyrin/pseuds/NotSyrin
Summary: When 'normal' adventures turn into something far greater than anyone could have imagined, it is only natural that they rise up to the occasion. Surely, things will lead to a happy ending.Right?[FC/OCs fic don't mind me!]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	A Gaze is Company

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hi! This is just some very self indulgent writings to explore various FC member characters and hopfully have their creators enjoy the ride. 
> 
> I can't say how much of what I write within the context of the FFXIV universe will make sense since most of these characters are written to be smarter than me (and I am admittedly very casual when it comes to the general lore stuff), but by golly I sure wanna try to set up a story anyway so I'll do my very best to research and do what feels fun and exciting.
> 
> Syrin Kisaragi is my own character. Aside from background characters every other major or support character will be another player's that I was given permission to play with!
> 
> Tags and rating will be updated as necessary. C:

Hoots, hollars, and general noise of merriment ring throughout Tree Stump’s wooden tavern, the nighttime sky outside the carved rounded windows serve to complement the warm glow of the candlelight within the establishment of merry-making. In the farthest corner sits a small, sturdy stage consisting of two tables pushed together and is currently surrounded by the band that is not only playing phenomenally, but keeping their tunes afloat in the sea of chattering. From the bar, a Hyur tender busies herself by watching the stage’s occupant, a bitten trimmed nail tapping at her pudgy arm from its crossed position.

The dancer was easy to fall into. The way the Keeper’s light brown skin all but glows in the soft candlelight makes his elegant dance all the more mesmerizing to follow. That isn’t even taking into account the way his silky, long raven black hair flowed like water with each effortless spin or the pure white silk of his dancer garb gripping and accentuating his lean but toned features with perfect precision. Golden chains decorating his person glitter but none as brightly as his sea green eyes adorn by purple eyeshadow and sharp wings.

Truly, a beauty in his own right and in a league of his own. Way out of their price range under any other circumstance, even.

The door to the tavern opens and her tapping finger bites into umber toned skin while hazel eyes snap towards the mystery guest. A Lalafell in a pointy hat squeezes their way past the rare crowd to a table of friends.

Just an ordinary guest.

“Gabi.”

The bartender hadn’t even known how tense she became until a careful heavy hand settled over her pinched up shoulder. Her brother eyes her past his wavy fringe with a reassuring squeeze and nervous smile that perfectly reflects her current mix of emotions. 

The Adders were not scheduled to come around this night, so it was only a matter of time…

Appearing from the crowd pops out their temporary server. A slim framed Keeper who is more than easy to spot with how his short pale pink rose colored hair stands out against all the warmer toned features of the establishment. Approaching them might have been a task itself if how he gracefully dips and glides around fumbling guests didn’t prove otherwise. 

“I will be needing another round to serve if you have any more ale to spare,” comes a light toned voice, loud enough to accommodate for the noise level but remains gentle all the same. Though rather thick, those glasses frame his sharp eyes perfectly; his hair doing much the same for his porcelain face even with feathery-like bangs obscuring part of his vision. She’ll feel bad if they were ruined tonight.

A warm smile that melts away some of her nerves quirks his lips up as he passes off a wooden tray. Suits his unblemished boyish features well, she thinks. Wordlessly, Gabriya sets it down and turns to prepare another five mugs, her brother now taking up the door watch shift.

She is but one drop in when the door swings open once again. The way half of the chatter dies down in knowing is all too telling. 

From the corner of her eye, her brother’s tall figure straightens up with a stern nod as multiple heavy footsteps cut through the remaining cheer in the air. Her fingers twitch around the cup in itch for something else- preferably the cold weight of the spear laying hidden under the bar. They clench around the rim instead, threatening to snap it, before tensely resuming to refill. 

The music doesn’t fit the atmosphere anymore. 

She is met with a heart attack when she comes to find their doe-eyed server already at the table of bulging muscles. The ruffians there, all three looking rough around the edges and hardened by skirmishes, are in a laughing fit that obnoxiously overpowers the rest of the merry-going.   
  
“Rox,” she hisses urgently, slapping his arm frantically as she looks on at the scene.

Roxam bats plump hands away and nervously pushes thick locks from his face. “It’ll be fine. Just wait.”

“A lad as scrawny as yerself probably finds it difficult to do even the most mundane tasks, ya?” a thick muscled Hyur snorts, amused with himself as pale sausage fingers pinch at the plainly dressed Miqo’te’s sleeve cuff and lifts it in mock observation.   
  
Surrounding patreons familiar with the group silently sip at their drinks and maintain a strict no-eye-contact rule. To those still unaware, the live entertainment keeps them fully distracted. Fortunate for some. Unfortunate for others as the remaining two muscle heads scan the unsuspecting crowd in a manner that has the siblings’ skin crawl.  
  
“Haha, I suppose you are right,” the Keeper chuckles awkwardly, arm dropping unceremoniously while the one-eyed man casually leans back in the seat that squeaks under the weight. “I will fetch you some drinks. On the house.” This has all three heads turning towards him inquisitively. Before they can get a word out, the now timid looking feline puts his hands up in defense. “You and yours are well known in these parts. New as I am, it is widespread that you should not be trifled with.”  
  
The ass-kissing looks to have pleased them if their barking laughter and ugly smug expressions are anything to go by. Of course it would. Her eyes roll so hard that Roxam nudges her for the obvious and open show disdain. Just as the young Miqo’te makes his way back, the harp player takes a stand- her plucking of strings never once stopping- and announces the entertainment will be moved outdoors to give everyone a much grander performance. The promise sways their audience be it for the performance itself or the reason to leave the uncomfortable presence the seated men dragged in. Whatever the case the performers parade just about everyone out the doors and leave the remaining occupants to the tension that had been concealed by everything else going on. 

Gabriya tunes out the now distant music so that every little creak of the floorboards becomes the new tune to jump to, her heartbeat steadily becoming a new rhythm that was too fast for her tastes. When the golden-eye Miqo’te takes up the previously abandoned tray and retreats into the backroom, Roxam sucks in a breath through his nose at the three figures rising the moment they are alone and nudges himself in front of his sister.   
  
“Fine crowd ye got here. Enough to make a pretty penny, aye?” comes the gruff but amused tone of the eyepatched man, already descending upon them as if they were a dirty mat ready to be trampled upon. 

Roxam puffs out his chest and holds his ground. “You know we couldn’t pay you this time around.”

The goons, one bald and the other bearded, tauntingly whistle and rub their hands together.

“I ain’t gonna lie,” smirks the presumed leader, his single silver eye dark with foul intent as it shifts to Gabriya, “I was hopin’ ya’d say that.”   
  
No command was given when the two lackeys stalked forward. Just a gross mutual understanding. 

Reflexively, Roxam huddles his sister’s figure behind him fully while standing his ground with a burning gaze of disgust and resentment. Gabriya pokes her head around to mime the glare and is just in time to witness the bearded one get frisbee-ed in his face by a tray with a loud and satisfying thwack. Before she or her brother could process the turn of events, the server flings himself over the counter to deliver a well deserved swift kick across the bald one’s face that cracks so hard it leaves said man stumbling and dazed.  
  
Gabriya bounces and shakes her fists in the air. “Get ‘em, Get ‘em!”  
  
Cries of pain are soon drowned out by the leader’s angry open mouthed snarl as he takes up his blade and rushes the Miqo’te now dancing circles around his stunned heavy-limbed opponent.

He doesn’t get a step in.

The moment a foot raises the dancer from earlier appears out of seemingly nowhere and sweeps his own under the man’s now imbalanced form to send him tumbling towards the bar. 

**THUNK.**

The leader falls into a limp pile on the floor while Roxam stares bug eyed at a now heavy huffing, skillet wielding Gabriya. She only pushes her bouncy black waves from her face, her bun having loosened at some point, before simply sighing, “I needed to do that.”

The moment of stress relief was then broken with a shriek and protective shielding from the brother when the bearded goon was knocked into the bar with a heavy groan, the dancer standing not too far off with a leg raised in the most graceful yet violent kick anyone could probably ever witness. An expert flick of his wrist sends a dull chakram hurling at the last standing man’s still dazed but rampaging figure bowling towards the server’s steeled, expecting stance. The hard landing hit to the shoulder is enough to stagger the imposing figure and causes him to shift back enough and allow the Miqo’te to slide under him just so to use the oncoming momentum. 

Behind the dancer- who spins on his heel into a final knockout kick- a table promptly explodes under the massive weight of the bald offender as he is skillfully flipped onto his back. 

Only when the three harassers are tied and locked in the backroom for the Adders to apprehend do the siblings allow the tension to drain from their person and excitedly huddle around the pink cat who was cleaning up what remained of the table. The dancer watches over their exchange while dexterous fingers comb shiny straight locks into a high ponytail to drape over his rear, the shorter pieces falling around his face, while flat heels tap to the beat of the jolly song outside. Adders led in by the harp player from earlier arrive a bit later to be introduced to the group for a thorough report that the young feline has no trouble detailing for them. 

Much to his surprise, the siblings took that as an opportunity to waltz up and shower him with praise and thanks.

The song is starting to die down but alive enough to ease him for the time being as he was gushed over for the show of heroics. It isn’t _too_ unfamiliar, being a performer and all, but… This was different. Initially, he had no expectations other than to sink and wait in the shadows until business was concluded, so the surprise upon his flawless complexion here is genuine. The shine in their eyes is a different form of admiration than what is typically seen when he dances- his main source of attraction. To say the shift in attention flustered him would be an understatement. An unusual shift, but not entirely unwelcome…

“Kaim.”

The mature Keeper’s stubby ears twitch, pretty turquoise gems blinking before peeling away from the pair’s retreating form as they are recruited by an Adder and to his taller friend who has now reclaimed his lance. “You are done already, Syrin?”  
  
The other Keeper seems to find this comical judging from glowing amusement shining through those mismatched eyes, the silver one concealed behind light bangs.  
  
“‘Already’, you say? It has already been a bell and then some. You must be tired if you glossed over that fact so please forgive me for the wait.”

Kaim smoothly waves a dismissive hand with a tired grin. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad everything was settled tonight.” Eyes drift over their scene briefly. Not too worse for wear; lightly battered if anything due to a few tables being shoved and one sacrificed. “Considering what weed pulling dragged you into I would say this is a job well done. Nice throw earlier, by the way.”

He rubs the base of his neck with a small chuckle. “Life certainly has its unexpected ways of leading us to one another. I am just glad I was there when I was to help stop the terrorizing. The smoothness of the mission is largely due to the collective efforts of you and the musicians, honestly!” At the compliment, he smiles meekly and flexes hands, looking down at the thin papercut-like scarred skin in silent analysis. “I tried mimicking what I’ve seen you do… I was aiming for his forehead.”  
  
After a brief pause of processing, Kaim laughs- slinging a personal bag over his shoulder and offering Syrin his- before ruffling the man’s hair and leading them away to the nearest chocobo porter. A lucky shot for someone to have rarely wielded a projectile of that nature, but considering how observant Syrin is with just about everything he can’t say he is too surprised.   
  
“And you hit him square in the nose! Not too far off from your mark. Still...” Syrin cringes a bit at a light flick to his forehead. “A little reckless on your end, don’t you think?”

Kaim can see the cogs turning behind his thoughtful gaze as he considers his words. The men’s imposing and weapon clad figures were just that; a show. From what they gathered, there were a lot of empty threats fulfilled due to their presumed battle hardened appearance. Their dangers lay entirely on their connections more than their physical abilities but still...  
  
“How do you mean? The number of guests was questionable, perhaps, but I figured as long as the crowd separated immediately from the targets it would be fine. The money from the show was to benefit the tavern as well as bait the targets on the off chance they-”

“I’m talking about you, you goof. You gave her your weapon and left yourself vulnerable.”

A pause long enough to catch the passing breeze gently rustle the trees overhead. 

Syrin brushes some of his neatly kept tresses framing his face back. “She would have had better use for it to defend herself in the worst case scenario and I could have reclaimed it if necessary. Thoughtful risk taking, I argue.”  
  
Kaim sighs and shakes his head. Even with Syrin’s care for detail, he wasn’t immune to the gung-ho zeal that a youth’s attitude often demonstrates. Oh, to be young again... Before he can go down that mental journey, Kaim brings himself back to the present.  
  
“Reckless all the same. Was there anything in it for you?”

A shallow shrug. “An offer was given but I could not take them up on it… I did make sure to compensate you and the others for your time though!”

“That’s not the point, friend.” Kaim gives Syrin a pointed look as he goes on to friendly threaten, “Do I have to pay for your end of the rent? Azrael is kind but not enough to let us off the hook entirely.” 

Pink ears shoot up in alarm and Syrin comes around to step in front of Kaim’s path, walking backwards all the while, to face him fully with a look crossing between pleading and horror as his hands flail about. “None of that, none of that! I promised I would always have my end prepared and I don’t intend on breaking that now!”

Kaim ‘hmphs’ and turns up his nose in mock snootiness. “Then you best be getting compensated like you _deserve_.”

“I will, I will!”

“After pulling your ear about it, maybe. You don’t always need to be offering your services for free. Especially the more dangerous ones.” Toned limbs tensely stretch overhead, quivering at the deep hold, before melting back down. “A nice rest would have to do, I suppose.”

“Mm…”

The way the adventurer’s ears guiltily flicker down doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Syrin…”

The guilty looking Keeper rubs the back of his neck bashfully and glances away. “They only need me to deliver- ow, ow, ow! Mercy, Kaim, mercy!” They both halt as Syrin’s soft cheeks are seized between Kaim’s dainty-looking fingers for a good pinching.   
  
“Do you never think to take a break? Surely _they_ can make the delivery themselves!”

“It was on the way back anyhow and I wasn’t going to pester you into coming along with me, I swear!” comes a weak whine as hands weakly tap at Kaim’s smooth manicured ones in surrender.

“Of course you weren’t.” Kaim relents with a look of mild disapproval as his hands firmly plant themselves on his bare hips. As unkind the hardwood tables were to his feet, he’d rather skip out on a rest if it meant sparing Syrin another volley of head spinning quests. “And what? Leave you to exhaust yourself with what Halone knows what else will sprout up in your path?”  
  
Looking like a kicked puppy, the young man tucks his hands behind his back and kicks at the earthy ground.   
  
“I can’t help it-” A pointed finger just barely brushing his nose cuts him off and forces him to shrug his head back. 

“You _can_ help it,” Kaim chides lightly, wiggling his finger accusingly. “You can’t help everyone like that.”  
  
Undeterred, Syrin tilts his head with a small frown that tells Kaim that he still has much to learn. That the twinkling wide-eyed, curious wonder he always carried in his eyes will one day die out as he discovers how unforgiving and cruel this world can really be. How it can ruthlessly break and tear people like him down and cast them into a cold state of mind that always brings more questions than answers.  
  
“I can reach where I can.” Such a simple yet lofty statement to make.  
  
Kaim reclaims his hand and steps around Syrin, the other being quick to follow him as they continue down the dark and beaten path.   
  
“Not when it frequently comes at your expense. For as much as you give, you should also receive.”

“But I do receive!” he argues, bouncing ahead of Kaim briefly before falling back to his side. “No deed is without new insight. Oftentimes, if not all the time, I have new riches to fill in my journal.”

“Aaand if you converted those deeds into gil, you would certainly be richer for it.”

They both share a light laugh, Syrin hiding his behind a hand before nudging Kaim playfully soon after.

“To be fair and give all due credit: your dancing alone garners a fancy sum. More than any bit of wealth my journal entries could ever theoretically bring, in fact.”

“Nope. No.We aren’t doing this.” Kaim shoves his hands over his ears and struts forward, the natural sway of his hips accentuating his curvy frame with every to and fro motion.

Syrin easily picks up his pace to close the distance with a spring in his step. “Undeniable fact! You and your talents are-”

Walking faster with a sing-song tune to his melodic voice. “I’m not listening~-” 

“A sight to behold. Honestly, did you _see_ the way that crowd-”  
  
The two continue like this until they are full out running with grins stretched across their faces; Syrin’s bright with glee while Kaim’s is softened with meek uncertainty and sits hidden behind his ducked down head as if the shade of the night wouldn’t be enough to conceal his flustered disposition. 

* * *

* * *

Within the shaded chocobo cart, Syrin appears more put-together with a change into his usual casual-wear as he watches the leafy greens of their scene flash them by, comfortably lax in his propped-headed position. The weather was nice, not a cloud in the sky, so Kaim had changed into something light and flowy to allow the passing breeze to graze him by and busied himself with thoughts of a nice bath upon their return to their shared home.

True to Syrin’s word, the brief detour wasn’t so much out of the way. And, true to expectations, Kaim had to drag him away from yet another frivolous deed that really did not require his aid. Bed making, window shutting- really? The individual was perfectly capable of housing chores but simply didn’t wish to roll out of their own bed to do so. Apart from that annoyance, the only real inconvenience was waiting for the next carriage to whisk them back to Lavender Beds.

At least the ride was tolerable. Very little chatter was going on within the group. Every so often a scarred-nose Midlander woman, hair dark as night and draping around her bronze sun-kissed face, leans towards her Duskwight companion for a muttered “is this the spot?” The lanky, well dressed Elezen- whose skin certainly has not seen the sun for some time and appears to have dark, sleepless circles under his eyes- looks absolutely vexxed each time he has to pull his nose out of whatever it is he is reading to grit out a sharp response of “no.” And each time the violet eyed woman sinks into her seat with a pout and takes to bouncing her legs.

The both of them seem to be annoyed for reasons involving each other which makes for a somewhat awkward atmosphere that Kaim can thankfully brush past with how light it is. Syrin was once vibrating in his seat at the want to talk to either one but probably thought better of it until the two of them were in a better mood. 

“We missed our turn.”

Everybody picks up their heads and directs themselves towards Syrin, who was now staring directly at the two overseers. Silence. An ear flicks down as he gives a slight tilt to his head. The other three occupants take their turns in observing their route for confirmation.

That much was true; the turn that had been made didn’t follow the dusty trail worn out by its frequent use. Instead, it was mildly trodden on grass that was leading them into the more woodsy terrain that had lower overhanging branches scratching against the roof of the cart every so often as they advanced deeper. 

Perhaps they were new or didn’t hear him. Syrin rises from his seat and casually makes his way over to the front, waving a friendly hand despite neither rider looking back at him. 

“Excuse me-”

The reins snap and the speed picks up. “Sit down, we will get there when we get there.” 

Without missing a beat he counters kindly, “Can you tell me our destination?”

In the moments of silence that briefly followed, Kaim and the other two passengers are on their feet and immediately buckle down when the cart swerves harshly. Right then, the one rider handed control to the other before making a lunge at the questioning Keeper and urging him back towards the mouth of the speeding vehicle. Kaim is on him in an instant, using a swift foot to hook the one arm off his shoulder before driving it into his ribs.

At the steering wheel, the lone driver swears under her breath as she twists and casts a spell blindly with little regard of who exactly it hits as long as it serves to damage _someone_. Before it could reach Kaim, now thrown into a post and rocking the entire carriage, the scarred woman leaps in front to deflect the attack with a whip of her blade and sends it ripping through the roof’s fabric. Not soon after a powerful gust of wind has the driver cowering and scrambling to find purchase with louder cursing that eventually fades out when the Elezen strides forward and sweeps her off their wagon with another burst of wind. The swordswoman manages to snatch the leather reins in time with a huff of relief and waves them in her grasp with a look of triumph towards her traveling companion. He gives her a deadpan look and motions for her to get the chocobos under control to which she responds with a suddenly panicked expression while looking between him and the reigns a couple times. 

She shoves them into his chest and puts her hands up. “I don’t know how to drive these things.”

Utterly flabbergasted with full offense, the winds whipping through his deep locks of blue, the scholarly man opens and closes his mouth as he tries to find his words. “You would believe _me_ a chauffeur kind?” He thrusts the leather back into her chest. 

She puffs up her chest and throws them back. “If you are so smart, take the lead!”

“Such skill sets are trivial to my endeavors and dwarf in my grander capabilities.” He pushes them back with heat to his deep green glare that’s more annoyed than alarmed by their current predicament. 

The cart bounces as a wheel catches a rock upon their hurling approach towards a steep hill. It works out in Syrin’s favor as it gives him the extra leverage to toss the shady driver out the back by planting his feet on the offender’s chest from his pinned form and tossing him up while Kaim follows in with the same technique but to the rear. Meanwhile, the pair up front can only watch with dread, the goateed Duskwight’s expression falling further into stupefied disbelief, as the Midlander’s toss falls short of her target.

With tension no longer binding them, the two chocobos “kewh!” with freedom and break free just as the wagon tips forward in preparation to barrel down the hill and oncoming forest. The two share a look. Her round eyes are full of unsaid apology while his face remains eerily neutral.   
  


“What compels you to infuriate me with such ease?”

“Y-you’re the one who didn’t make the catch!”  
  


It takes Syrin throwing out an arm and catching Kaim by the ankle, face slapped by his tail while nails bite into the wooden boards to stop himself from sliding, to keep him from sharing the previous driver’s fate as they all become part of a runaway carriage with no breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> Soft start, wee! \o/


End file.
